Silent Weaver

"Why is it you?" Sage muttered as he stepped into the chamber. He was met with a sight that made his blood run cold.

The rich woman, his target, sat on a throne-like chair, her eyes glowing with a strange energy. The room was filled with strange artifacts and symbols, pulsing with dark magic.

The woman's gaze locked onto Sage, a cruel smile spreading across her face. "What do you mean?" She asked, her voice dripping with malice. "Do we know each other?"

Sage's eyes scanned the room, taking in the layout and searching for any hidden dangers. He spotted several guards positioned around the perimeter, their eyes fixed on him with a mixture of curiosity and hostility.

The woman gestured to the guards, and they stepped forward, forming a semi-circle around Sage. "You're quite famous among the Shadow Weavers," she said, her voice filled with sarcasm. "The Silent Weaver, they call you. But I think you'll find that your skills are no match for mine."

'Why is it this woman from my dream? She looks like her... Queen Vera.'

After Sage died, his death didn't just with his head been cut out from his neck. He woke again, but in a different world and as a different person.

He lost all the memories of his past life but every night when he falls asleep, he dreams about it. To him, it was nothing more than a weird dream, but the truth is that these were the memories that hunted him from the past; and they will keep hunting him until he kills every single one that had a hand in his death.

As for this woman, this beast, sitting before him, that was queen Vera, the first Queen of the king, his father.

Though she had no hands in his death, he was still going to kill her after all.

He sneered, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade. "We'll see about that," he replied, his voice low.

The woman laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Very well," she said. "Let's end this. Guards, attack!"

The guards charged forward, their blades flashing in the dim light. Sage stood his ground, his eyes locked onto the woman as he prepared to face the guards.

As the guards charged towards him, his blade, a sleek and deadly instrument, seemed to shimmer in the dim light, its edge glinting with a killing intent.

The first guard, a burly man with a cruel grin, swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming for Sage's chest. But Sage was no ordinary man. With a swift, economical motion, he sidestepped the attack and struck back, his blade slicing through the guard's defenses with ease.

The sound of steel biting into flesh was eerily silent, as if the blade had been designed to muffle its own deadly efficiency. The guard's eyes widened in shock as he stumbled backwards, clutching at the gaping wound in his side.

The other guards, undeterred by their comrade's fate, pressed their attack, their swords flashing in the dim light. But Sage was a master of his craft, his blade weaving a deadly pattern of steel and shadow.

He danced through the guards, his movements fluid and precise, his blade striking true time and again. The guards, despite their numbers, were no match for Sage's skill and training.

One by one, they fell to the ground, their bodies crumpling into lifeless heaps. The sound of their breathing, their grunts of effort, and their cries of pain were the only sounds that broke the silence, aside from the soft whoosh of Sage's blade as it sliced through the air.

The last guard, a young woman with a look of desperation in her eyes, lunged at Sage with a wild cry. But Sage was unforgiving, his blade flashing once more in the dim light as he struck her down.

As the last guard fell, Sage turned his attention to the woman, who sat watching him with an expression of calm interest. She seemed unmoved by the carnage that had unfolded before her, her eyes gleaming with a malevolent intensity.

Sage approached her, his blade still trembling with the force of his final blow. The woman's eyes flicked to the blade, and for a moment, Sage thought he saw a flicker of fear in her gaze.

But it was quickly extinguished, replaced by a cold, calculating glint. "You're quite skilled," she said. "But do you have what it takes to defeat me?"

Sage scoffed, his blade vibrating in his hand. "We'll see about that," he said.

The woman chuckled lightly. "Very well," she said. "Let's end this."

With a swift motion, she raised her hand, and a blast of dark energy shot towards Sage. But Sage was ready, his blade flashed in the dim light as he deflected the attack.

'Quite strong but still not enough to defeat me.'

Seeing how easily her attack was countered, the woman grunted and raised her hands. Her eyes flashed with malevolent intent as she began to chant in a low, husky voice. The air around her seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening and twisting into grotesque forms.

Sage's eyes narrowed, his grip on his blade tightening as he sensed the woman's dark magic building in power. He knew he had to be careful, that one misstep could prove fatal.

The woman's chanting grew louder, her voice rising to a crescendo as she unleashed a blast of dark energy towards Sage. The air seemed to rip apart, revealing a swirling vortex of shadowy tendrils that hurtled towards Sage with deadly precision.

"Abaddon's Fury!" the woman screamed, her eyes blazing with triumph.

The attack hit him and he was thrown into the wall which shattered as a result of the force.

A mouthful of blood spewed out as he coughed but there was no time to delay. He got up immediately and began to ascend the stairs, his feet barely touched the ground as he made a run for his safety.

"Hahahaha," the woman's chill laughter echoed behind him.

As she moved in the air, the space around her seemed to be bending to her will.

Sage looked back, it looked like she was still far away from him whereas she was inches away from him. He knew he could not just continue to run or things would turn bad for him.

He quickly focused his own energy, calling upon the power of the Shadow techniques to aid him. His blade began to glow with a faint, eerie light, as if the very shadows themselves were coalescing into a powerful force.

With a swift motion, Sage struck back, unleashing a wave of shadowy energy that clashed with the woman's dark magic. The two forces met in mid-air, creating a spectacular display of light and sound that shook the very foundations of the underground.

'I have to end things immediately'.

Once outside, Sage decided to take things far for once; he needed to end things quickly as it was almost approaching day time.

"I am going to kill you," the woman grunted and came down for a closer fight.

Not giving her any slightest opportunity to act, Sage struck out with his blade, aiming for the woman's shoulder. Before she could react, the blade bit deep, and the woman cried out in pain as she stumbled backwards.

She lost her footing and fell hard to the ground, her head striking the stone floor with a sickening crack. Sage stood over her, his crimsoy eyes gleaming with a cold, calculating light.

As the woman struggled to rise, Sage raised his hand, the palm glowing with a faint, eerie light. The air around his hand seemed to distort.

The woman's eyes widened in alarm as Sage's wither palm descended, striking her with a blast of dark energy. The woman's body stiffened, her eyes going wide as she felt her life force being drained away.

Sage's eyes gleamed as he watched the woman's life force fade away. He knew that the wither palm was a cruel technique, one that drained the life force from its victim, leaving them a hollow shell of their former self.

But Sage didn't care.